


On the Matter of Mothers and Siblings

by SkyeDragonDraws



Series: rain and needles [3]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, but i feel the lemm tag is relevant, lemm is there for two minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeDragonDraws/pseuds/SkyeDragonDraws
Summary: Hornet finds that her siblings are more whole than she will ever be.
Relationships: Hornet & The Knight (Hollow Knight), The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet & The Knight
Series: rain and needles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854088
Comments: 28
Kudos: 154





	On the Matter of Mothers and Siblings

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to skye's purple prose nightmare 3! enjoy your stay.

The vessel is hesitating. 

It steps back from her mother’s shrine, strange talisman clenched tightly in its claws. It looks around, frantically, and for a brief second Hornet worries she’s been spotted, but its blank eyes slide past her without stopping.    
  


Her hand tightens on her needle. 

_ What is it doing?  _

It steps back again - more of a stumble this time - and looks around once more. It’s fiddling with the talisman now, holding it close to its chest. 

(The vessel looks to be on the verge of leaving. 

Hornet does not think about how she wants it to. Her own selfishness cannot get in the way of Hallownest’s salvation.)

She shakes her head. This has gone on _ long enough _ , and she will  _ not _ prolong it further. 

Her mother deserves better than that.

The spider slides off the web, landing soundlessly on the floor behind it. “Vessel.”

The little thing  _ whirls  _ around, the point of its nail coming to rest against her chest. 

Hornet pushes the weapon down with careful claws. The edges are sharper than when she was last on the business end of this nail, and its channel is now buried under tightly coiled metal. She does not want to feel  _ that  _ biting into her chitin again without good reason. 

“Do not hesitate,” she tells it. 

It stills, and then sheaths its nail. 

“What are you doing?”

It pulls out a map. Hornet barely manages to catch a glimpse of the scribbly mess on the front before the vessel flips the paper over and pulls out a quill. Its handwriting is surprisingly neat, and it’s not long before it hands its work to her.

“... want to find another way?” Hornet reads off the parchment. “There  _ is  _ no other way. You  _ must  _ kill the dreamer.”

(She fights the urge to crumple the scroll, to shred it in her claws. It’s not  _ fair,  _ it’s not  _ fair,  _ she wants her _ mother  _ and she wants there to be _ some other way  _ but there’s  _ not. _

The paper is not crumpled. Hornet cannot afford to be childish.)

The vessel does not move towards her mother’s shrine. It takes the paper back, and glances at the small nicks her claws left in it. 

( _ No cost too great,  _ her father once said, and here, in this shrine about to become a grave, Hornet finds herself believing him.)

“Ghost,” she says, clenching her fists until her claws dig into the soft chitin of her palms, “ _ Please. _ ”

They don’t hesitate further.

*

She has not seen Ghost for some time. 

The Hollow Knight stumbles out of its prison without warning. The protector finds a new charge.

Ghost finds both of them, some time later. They’re too big for their small shell, but they seem determined to fit inside it. 

(She doesn’t know if they ever will. They’re struggling, in a way they never have before.)

*

The calm is unsettling. 

(Once, it would have meant a needle buried in an enemy or a nail biting through her, for things were only quiet when they were  _ bad.  _

Now, it simply means nobody else is awake in the house. 

_ Strange _ , she thinks, tapping her claws on the table,  _ very much so. _ )

She can’t leave, no matter how badly she wants to. The sun is yet to rise, which means  _ Purl _ is yet to rise, and if she departs before they can see her off, Hornet won’t hear the end of it for a  _ week _ . 

Ghost greeted her when she rose, and promptly scurried off to their room to sleep. They likely won’t be around until the afternoon, or even early evening if she’s unlucky. 

Hornet sits alone at the table in the dark. There’s nothing to do but  _ wait. _

(Stillness wears on her. The tapping of her claws continues long after the sunrise.)

*

Ghost has nightmares. They try not to wake her, but sometimes, it’s too much for them and they must.

It  _ exhausts  _ her, losing what little sleep she allows herself, but she cannot deny her little sibling the comfort they deserve. 

Maybe it’s the shaking of her hands that makes them stop coming to her, or the way her words are slow the mornings after, or maybe (most likely) they just grow tired of her cold, clinical soothing.

It seems even in the safety of the little house in Dirtmouth, Hornet finds that she is a survivor first, a warrior second, and a sister last. 

(She has no idea how to rearrange herself.)

*

_ There’s something behind!  _

Heart races, hand meets handle, and needle comes down, its finely kept edge slicing cleanly through the air. 

Ghost _flinches_ away, and two halves of the tiktik roll apart. They glance back, tilting their head at their older sister. 

They don’t need to sign, so they don’t. She knows what they’re asking.

_ What was that for? _

Hornet doesn’t have an answer for them. 

  
The protector of Hallownest’s corpse, terrified by a  _ tiktik _ . 

_ Who is she, anymore?  _

  
(Maybe she ought to figure that out. The graveyard that was once Hallownest deserves better than some lost wanderer.) 

*

A shield appears on the mantle one day.

She doesn’t know who it belonged to.

Ghost knows.

(Ghost  _ always _ knows.)

And, even if they didn’t, even if it was just some blind instinct that drove them to relieve whatever corpse they’d found of its burden, Hornet knows what it means. 

(She’s all too familiar with the rites and rituals of mourning those who died before their time.)

Another stripped of even their breath by Hallownest. 

How many slipped past her vigil, through cliffs and stones, drawn to this sick place like flies to a corpse?

How many did she let die?

(How many, orange-eyed and light-maddened, did she kill?)

*

“Leaving  _ again _ ?” Purl buries their head in her shoulder. “You’ve been out  _ all day _ . Forgetting your poor siblings… leaving them all alone in this cruel world…” 

“It’ll be quick,” Hornet assures them, rubbing their mask. “One last trip. I’ll be back before you have the time to miss me.” 

They tilt their head, considering. Suddenly, they wrap their arm around her, and before Hornet has the time to do anything more than let out a startled shout, she’s buried in their nest. 

_ It was a trap from the start,  _ she thinks, pushing on Purl’s arm with all her might. “Let me  _ up!  _ It’s not even sundown! I’m busy! I have things to do!”

The Pure Vessel, the Hollow Knight, the survivor of the full force of a furious god’s death throes, lays their mask on her chest, freeing their arm to sign: “You are very busy napping, yes. Sleep time now. Goodnight. Love you.”

“ _ Purl! _ ”

“Can’t hear you, I’m asleep.” Their grip tightens and they purr, nuzzling her cheek. 

The tip-tap of claws against the floor alerts her to her other sibling’s presence. She glances up, catching their eye, and says “Ghost, get them  _ off.  _ I have to get up and- oh no don’t you  _ dare  _ -”

If their face were not a perfect blank mask, Hornet imagines Ghost would be looking like the mosscreep that got the maskfly as they curl up against her side, reaching over her to rest their hand on Purl’s mask. 

She rolls her eyes and play-hisses at them. Purl isn’t going to let her up until they’re asleep, which means she might as well play along. 

They stare for a moment, and pat her shoulder before signing: “sleeping now.” Then, they curl up and add their purr to Purl’s. 

She lets out a weary sigh. “You’re both  _ terrible _ ,” Hornet complains, laying her hand on the side of Ghost’s mask and affectionately rubbing their horns. “I’m getting up earlier than usual tomorrow, to make up for lost time.”

Purl gently bops the horn of her mask with the tip of theirs, and Hornet gets the distinct sensation that she will  _ not,  _ in fact, be getting up early. 

(Maybe she’s okay with that. Just for tonight.)

*

The crying city welcomes Hornet, as it does most mourners. Its tears sing their song against her silk in a steady rhythm as she soars between buildings unhindered.

(How strange, the way such releases come easier to something that was never alive to begin with than they do to her.)

She lands beside the fountain, and once again she’s not alone. This time, however, the circumstance is not nearly so dire. There’s no vessel to offer a warning to, there’s no sibling suffering above. 

There’s only a bug with a long, long beard, glaring at her as though  _ she’s  _ intruding. 

Hornet looks back. She’s never been one for greetings, but… she  _ is  _ responsible for the survivors, and she hasn’t met this one before. 

(She’s been avoiding this section of the city. She has no right to. The fountain does not hold her pain. 

How irresponsible of her.) 

“Hello,” she offers, after a moment. “Who are you? What are you doing out in the rain?” 

The bug gives her an even look, and Hornet instantly feels like she’s made a mistake. “I’m Lemm, a relic seeker, and-” he taps the plaque on the statue.”-I’m trying to figure out what this means.” 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” 

Lemm sputters for a moment. “No- no! I can  _ read. _ I’m trying to understand why it was built. No other texts mention a Hollow Knight, but professionally made public monuments don’t appear out of thin air.” He taps the plaque again. “And even setting aside the technicalities of there being almost no recorded history of a mythical character of what appears to be  _ extreme  _ cultural importance… I still can’t help but wonder… who were they? What did they do?” 

“They were  _ certainly _ no myth,” says Hornet, leaning over behind him. She underlines a specific word with her claw, cutting cleanly through the trails of water left behind by raindrops on the carved rock. “And as it says here - they were sacrificed.” 

Lemm lets out a strangled noise, somewhat similar to the sound of a mosscreep with a hairball crossed with the mating call of a tiktik. “ _ What. _ ”

It would be wrong, Hornet decides, to let their memory lie with nothing but this statue. “I assume you were not here for that?”

“ _ No? _ ”

Ah. Another she let slip through the cracks. She’s lucky he did not die. “They are-”

“ _ Are _ ? They’re  _ still around _ ?” His voice has taken on a wheezing quality. 

“Yes.” Hornet gives him a look. “Are you well?” 

“I’m perfect! Fantastic!” says Lemm. 

“You are acting oddly.”

“I assure you, I am fine,” he pats his pockets. “Can you wait a moment- who were they? What did they do? Why were they sacrificed?” 

“I- I don’t know what they would want me to say,” Hornet says, a sudden hesitance overcoming her. “I don’t think they’re fond of remembering - I think they want to be forgotten.” 

(she cannot become her father - Purl is their  _ own  _ person, and they  _ alone _ may decide what legacy they will leave.)

“History ought to be preserved,” Lemm argues. ”There’s enough missing already, what with the lack of texts from the era right before the fall. Isn’t it prudent for future generations to know what happened?” 

“I-” Hornet stops herself. It doesn't  _ matter _ what  _ she _ thinks of histories forgotten. Hallownest is her  _ responsibility, _ it does not  _ belong  _ to her _.  _ That legacy is more Purl and Ghost’s than it ever will be hers, so it is  _ their choice _ . “My opinion is irrelevant. The  _ person  _ you are asking about, my sibling, they  _ want  _ to be forgotten. It would be cruel for us to ignore their wishes _. _ ” 

The relic seeker gets no time to respond before she leaps away, silk whipping through the air. 

*

“Hornet?” Her little sibling asks, tucking themself under her arm. “How do you deal with people not liking you because you hurt them, even though you didn’t mean to?”

“What happened?” Hornet asks them. It’s too direct, too stern, but she’s never known another way to be. 

(She doesn’t waste time wondering why they’re asking her instead of Purl. She already knows.) 

“When I killed Her… it was all really fast,” Ghost starts, and then stutters to a stop. 

“Those things tend to be.” 

“And I think I messed up. Really bad.” 

Hornet’s eyes widen as a thought strikes her. Instinctively, she begins the motion of reaching for her needle. “Is She still around? Did you miss some of Her?” 

Ghost shakes their head rapidly. “No! No! She is  _ dead.  _ I made  _ sure _ .” 

“ _ Good. _ ” 

“But…”

“But?”

“Lost. Angry sibling?” Ghost fidgets. “I hurt them when I killed Her. I didn’t  _ mean  _ to! But I did and now they’re  _ really mad!  _ Really really mad! And I don’t know what to do!” 

Oh. 

“How?” The word is too sharp a question, too clinical a response for what should be a moment of comfort between siblings, but it’s all she has for them.

“When I… got all the way to the peak, when I ascended, I felt the Sea below, I felt all the siblings. She was there and everything was screaming and burning so I asked them for help, help  _ please! _ ” Ghost leans forward, pressing their face into Hornet’s side. “Except Lost says it wasn’t an ask, and that helping  _ hurt really bad. _ And now they’re  _ mad at me  _ and I  _ don’t know what to do _ .” 

Stillness and silence spill into the room when Ghost stops signing. Hornet should fill it, dutifully providing advice, as an older sister must, and yet… 

“I don’t know what to do either.” 

Ghost starts. “You  _ don’t _ ? But…  _ but _ -” 

“Ghost, everybody I’ve hurt is  _ dead. _ ” Hornet leans forward, resting her head in her hands, tilting just enough to be able to see their hands. “They all died before I stood any chance of making things right. There are many people I should be facing right now, and I  _ can’t  _ because they’re not alive to be upset.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry I am unable to be of aid to you.” 

Ghost leaves after that. She does not watch them go. 

*

A silent sentinel, guarding a corpse that will never care for her in turn. Familiar, safe, and comforting. The Wyrm’s corpse isn’t the only dead thing that she cannot bury.

Deepnest will always remember the princess that let it die. 

(Watching is all she’s good for, anymore.)

  
  


*

“And of the Hollow Knight?”

“I do not know if they want to see you,” Hornet says. “And I will not be asking them.  _ They  _ don’t like to live anywhere but the present.”

(It is not her battle.  _ She  _ was not wounded so deeply, so cruelly. She cannot turn her needle on the Root, no matter how she wishes to.)

The Lady sighs. “Very well.” 

Nothing else can be done. Hornet does not have any more time to waste here.

( _ How can you stay so  _ **_still_ ** _? Does inaction not  _ **_burn_ ** _ you? _ ) 

*

_ “Mother?” _

_ Herrah turns around. _

_ A mask, six-eyed and blank, stares at Hornet from across the dreamscape.  _

_ Ah. Her mother’s face has been forgotten already. _

_ How cruel.  _

_ * _

It’s raining when she wakes up. 

Rain means Purl is almost certainly going to be on the porch, probably with some half-finished project in their hand. It will stay half-finished until the gentle drone of the raindrops lulls, their attention captured perfectly by the sensation of the storm. 

A peek out the back door confirms her suspicions. Her older sibling is curled in the porch hammock, loom resting on their chest.

There won’t be much of anything done today; they always protest her leaving the house during rainstorms, and Hornet can’t seem to find the energy to argue with Purl this morning. 

(She’s  _ tired.  _ The grief of some half-remembered dream settles in her core and begins to strangle her.)

“Good morning,” she greets them, doing her best to keep her exhaustion from leaking into her voice.

Purl starts and  _ scrambles _ , looking more like a stunned loodle than a vessel for a moment. Hornet flinches automatically as their loom goes flying, clattering off the wall of the house and onto the porch floor. 

They manage to still themself before the hammock deposits them on the floor, but it’s a long moment before they’ve arranged themself comfortably again. Their loom remains where it fell, and they spare it no more than a quick glance to assure it’s not in a place prone to puddling. 

(They really  _ do _ have more leg than they know what to do with.)

Purl blinks and shakes their head, reorienting themself before waving to her and tapping the hammock. 

“I have things to do today,” Hornet says, knowing she won’t win before she finishes speaking.

It seems they know too, giving her an unimpressed look and tapping their hammock again.

“I’m going to be busy,” she says again, even as she rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. “I’ll sit for a few minutes. An  _ hour  _ at most.”

“Of course,” they sign, shifting over to make room for her. 

(There’s a distinct smugness in the set of their shoulders as they help her settle at their side in the hammock. Hornet chooses to ignore it, doing her utmost to preserve what little scraps of her dignity remain.

Purl knows she’s soft for them, and despite the indignity of it, she can’t even bring herself to be  _ annoyed _ when they tease her.)

The rain thrums, and Purl’s claws click gently on her chitin as they wrap their arm around her. 

They have to be careful of both her cloak and the fabric of the hammock - even when carefully filed every day, the barbs on their knuckles are  _ sharp.  _

The pattering rain tugs at her mind, and tucked safely against her sibling’s side, Hornet allows herself to fall asleep. 

*

_ Mother?  _

_ The Beast motions again.  _

_ Mother, I can’t- I can’t hear you.  _

_ Mother? _

_ Can you hear me? _

_ Forgive me for forgetting, even in my dreams. Remembering was… dangerous, once, and now I don’t think I can anymore.  _

* 

Hornet wakes, shaking and breathless with her claws digging into the weave of a knitted blanket.

(There’s no tears. There never are.)

Something shifts, and her hand jumps to her needle-

It’s not there, but judging from the hollow  _ thwack! _ she’s just managed to smack Purl in the face. 

_ Right _ . Right, she’s in the hammock on the porch. She has no reason to be panicking. She needs to  _ calm down right now.  _

Purl catches both of her hands in their own, and their head dips over hers as they tuck her under their chin. Their shawl drapes around her shoulders, and they tug the blanket she’d thrown off back over her. 

(She’s still shaking.)

They’re quiet, for a moment. The rainstorm has died down, going from a deluge to a trickle. 

Finally, Hornet rolls over, wiggling out from under their chin. “I’m getting up.”

Her sibling doesn’t let go. 

“I  _ said _ , I’m getting  _ up _ , Purl.” 

They’re still. 

“That means your arm has to move off of me.” 

Finally, they move. They shove her closer, tucking her under their elbow, freeing their hand to sign. “What’s the matter?”

“ _ Nothing _ ,” she snaps. “I  _ need  _ to get  _ moving. _ ”

“You need to stay here with me and listen to the rain,” they reply amicably. 

“ _ Purl. _ ”

  
“ _ Hornet. _ ” They lean down, tilting their head so they can look at her with their good eye. “What’s the  _ matter. _ ” 

“I-” she bites down. “I’m  _ fine. _ ”

“If you’re  _ fine, _ then I look forward to taking my evening tea with Her every night.” Purl snarks, gently flicking her mask. “What’s  _ wrong, _ little sister? You’re not alone anymore.”

Hornet looks away. “It is not your burden to bear.” 

“It is not yours  _ either _ .” 

“I was  _ born  _ to bear it, Purl,” She allows some of her irritation to show, the growl building in her throat entering her words. “You’ve dealt with  _ enough  _ of other people’s problems.”

“I was  _ born  _ to be the Pure Vessel, and I think we can both agree that was a  _ horrible  _ idea,” they tap her shoulder. “And I have worked very hard to be able to decide whose problems I want to deal with, and I have decided that my  _ baby sister  _ deserves my help.” 

“ _ Purl _ \- I  _ can’t. _ ” She rolls back over, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in their chest. “It’s  _ not  _ your problem.” 

She stays like that until they tap her shoulder, telling her that they have more to say. She rolls back over, just enough to catch sight of their hand. 

“It is not,” Purl agrees. “But I’m in a hammock you made in clothes you showed me how to make under the blanket woven from silk-yarn you’ve made me. You’ve taken on more than enough of  _ my  _ problems. You’ve shown me what to do, day after day after day, when I was pained and sick and scared. You’re  _ always  _ there for me, and now that I can be, I will be here for you.” 

“You do not  _ owe  _ me,” Hornet hisses. 

“I do not  _ owe  _ you,” Purl agrees, “but I do love you.” They dip their head, pressing their forehead into the side of her mask. “And I’ve  _ always  _ wanted to be able to offer you this, since we first met.”

A little whine slips out of her throat, a noise made in a way she hasn’t allowed herself since she was still small and terribly terribly homesick for the dark tunnels of Deepnest.

They tug her closer, wrapping her tightly in their arms and resting their hand on her back. The blanket hides her from the world, and the thrumming of rain seems so much louder when she’s pressed against their scarred chest.

She doesn’t know what to do. 

She doesn’t know how to do this. 

And yet… 

Suddenly, it’s like a floodgate has been broken. The ceiling cracks, and she balls Purl’s shawl in her hands as the words spill from her mouth like frantic tears. “I know,  _ intimately,  _ of the fierceness and the power and the prowess of my people. I know how to care for our weapons, and I know every hunting technique and battle strategy by heart and mind and  _ bone _ . But  _ Purl- _ ” Her fists tighten and her voice cracks. “I only know  _ three  _ of our stories. I don’t- I don’t know how to weave right, I can  _ barely  _ read the threadspeak, and I don’t even know how to- I can’t- I’m  _ barely  _ a spider, Purl, and I can’t even tell you what my mother  _ sounded _ like.”

There. Now she’s admitted  _ weakness _ , now the world will come for her, biting and scratching and  _ ripping her apart. _

It’s still.

She’s breathing heavily, and her shoulders are shaking, but she’s  _ not _ crying.

(She doesn’t know if she can, anymore.)

Everything feels numb. It’s always like this, when she grapples with her faults. It will fade, with time, and she’ll be  _ fine  _ until it does. 

She  _ has  _ to be. She  _ must  _ be. 

The hammock rocks, a little, as Purl shifts. Their arm slides off her back as they wiggle their hand into a position to pry hers off their cloak. Their thumb settles in her hands as they nuzzle her back.

Hornet  _ hisses  _ at the sudden sting, snatching her hands away and tucking them close to her chest. Silk flashes before she even realizes what she’s doing, sealing the cuts her claws had made in her palms when she clenched her fists too tightly.

“...There is blood on your shawl.” she informs them.

Purl doesn’t respond to that. Instead, they wrap their arm around her, resting their hand right where her needle would as they tuck her closer.

Hornet doesn’t resist, closing her eyes and curling up to their chest as though she were still a spiderling.

Their hand strokes down her back, and the numbness fades, a little.

_ I don’t know how to help,  _ her sibling says without words,  _ but I’ll sit with you, I’ll hold you, for as long as you‘ll let me. _

*

_ Mother? Are you here?  _

_ The dreamer is gone, erased first from the world, then memory, and at last her final prison is scrubbed clean of the only remaining shards of her presence.  _

_ Goodbye mother. _

_ I am sorry.  _

*

Hornet is running again. 

_ Hunting, _ she calls it, but there’s none of the honor of a hunt in these actions. She’s simply running from all the things she should be, like the little coward she is. 

Needle splits shell, knife carves flesh, and she’s done but she’s not  _ done _ ; her mind is still racing far too fast. 

So many names, all too big for her fractured,  _ weak  _ shell. Protector of a corpse meant to be desecrated, sentinel with an endless vigil, princess with a cracked crown.

(Sometimes she wishes that  _ Hornet  _ was enough. 

The thought is enough to make her mandibles clench, a wry, familiar grin spreading across her face.

She cannot afford to be childish.) 

*

(That night, she stumbles home bedraggled and beaten down. The burrs sink their claws into her cloak. They won’t release.

_ She  _ won’t release.) 

*

“I’m going out,” Hornet announces. Tiny claws catch in her cloak when she turns away, so she turns back around. “What?” 

“ _ Again _ ?” Ghost asks her, their signs slow and deliberate. “You’ve been out  _ every  _ day.” 

“I’m busy,” she lies. 

(Is it a lie? There are many things that must be done, but she’s not busy in a way that justifies running like this.)

“Why?” 

“Dead kingdoms don’t come back to life on their own, Ghost.” The words are meant to be nothing but factual, they truly are, but they come out laced with an exhausted bitterness that surprises her. 

Ghost flinches. “Can you take a break?” 

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m doing this for  _ you _ . You and Purl - you both deserve a Hallownest that isn’t  _ broken _ , and if I can help that happen, I  _ need to _ .” 

(It’s… true enough to count. She doesn’t want to lie to them.)

“I don’t  _ care  _ about Hallownest. I like  _ you _ ,” Ghost says, resting their hand over Hornet’s heart. “Purl misses you too. I wish you’d stay more.” 

“ _ Oh. _ ” Hornet pulls them closer. “Ghost, that’s very sweet, but- I need to-”

They pat her chest. “Stay. You need to stay. You need to stay with  _ us. _ ” 

“I  _ can’t _ .” She snaps. “You’ve both been through so much, the least I can do is-” 

They freeze, suddenly, and push themself off her lap. Their signs are hurried, their hands move in a flurry almost too fast for her to make out. “Are you only nice to us because you think it’s the  _ least  _ you can do? Do- do you think you  _ have  _ to? Do you think we’re just another dead kingdom you have to fix? Because I’m  _ not. _ I’m  _ not  _ and Purl’s  _ not _ and we don’t want to make you  _ tired _ .” 

“Ghost- Ghost  _ no! _ ” Hornet shakes her head, frantically. “No! No- no no it’s not like that!” 

“Then what  _ is  _ it like?” They stomp their foot on the ground, and Hornet gets the distinct impression that she’s being glared at. “Why do you keep  _ leaving _ ? Why do you keep leaving and not coming back until everybody’s asleep! We haven’t  _ seen you  _ in  _ weeks _ !” 

“Ghost-”

“ _ Why. _ ” 

“...because I’m a  _ coward _ ,” she admits quietly. “I’m sorry.” 

“A  _ coward _ ?” 

(She’s not enough. She’s never been enough and it’s all her own fault and she  _ doesn’t want to admit it. _ Maybe if she fixes Hallownest it will make up for Deepnest, maybe it will make up for letting her mother  _ die  _ in front of her.

It won’t. Nothing she could ever possibly do would make up for what she’s allowed to happen to this place.

She can’t be  _ still. _ )

“Yes. A  _ coward _ .” she snaps. “A  _ busy  _ coward. I have to  _ go _ .” 

“Then  _ go. _ ” Ghost crosses their arms and looks away. “Come back when you actually  _ like  _ us and aren’t trying to  _ fix  _ us.” 

(She doesn’t think about how their footsteps patter unsteadily towards Purl’s bed when she closes the door behind herself.)

*

There’s dirt in her claws and dirt in her cloak and she feels the familiar ache of sleeping on something too hard and in a place too small. 

(It’s been too long since she’s slept outside. The hammock in the hall closet of the little house in Dirtmouth has become uncomfortably familiar.) 

Judging by the exhaustion weighing her down, she hasn’t slept long. 

_ What woke me _ ? 

Carefully, Hornet rests her hand on her needle and  _ listens.  _ She doesn’t need to wait long - whatever woke her is certainly  _ not  _ trying to be quiet. 

Suddenly, Purl’s mask fills the entrance to her makeshift den. Her needle barely misses their good eye. They blink. “Are you coming home soon?”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Are you-”

“I understood you.” She turns away. “No.” 

( _ Coward _ . What would her mother think? She should face Ghost as she should have faced Herrah. How long until she forgets them as well?)

Hornet doesn’t get much warning before something snatches the scruff of her cloak. She hisses, scrabbling at the dirt as Purl rolls her over to face them. 

They release her to continue, their signs slow and deliberate. “Why not?” 

“I have to-” She falters. “I must-” 

(She doesn’t know. She only knows she cannot, not until she has something to  _ offer.  _ Something better than a bare, hollow apology.) 

“You must?”

“Yes.” Petulant, childish, everything she should have left behind long ago. “I must.” 

They cover their eyes, letting their mask fall to the floor. “You’ve got it all  _ wrong. _ ” 

“Oh? I do?” Hornet crosses her arms. “How so?” 

“You’re missing the  _ point. _ ”

“Then  _ what  _ is the _ fucking  _ **_point_ ** _? _ ”

“The point is… the  _ point  _ is!” They pause for a moment.

“The point  _ is _ ?” She snaps. 

“The point is that I feel… hurt,” Purl explains. It’s clear they’ve practiced this, probably more than once. “I feel hurt because I don’t want my little sister to feel  _ obligated  _ to care for me. I don’t want to tire you or burden you. Ghost feels hurt too, for all the same reasons and also because they’re very scared you didn’t like them in the first place, and have only been putting up with them.” 

“That is  _ not true. _ You  _ know  _ that.” 

“You act like it is. I know better. Ghost doesn’t.”

“Then tell them.” 

“ _ You _ have to tell them.” Purl taps her. “They’ll only listen to things about you from  _ you _ . They  _ trust  _ you. A  _ lot _ .” 

She snorts. 

“It’s  _ true! _ ” 

“They’re making a mistake.” 

“How so?” 

“How  _ not _ ?” 

“I asked you first.” 

“ _ Purl!  _ Seriously? Now?”

They give her a flat look “Yes.”

“ _ Fine _ ,” she hisses. “I let my mother die. I let you be sealed and suffer for  _ centuries.  _ I let  _ two  _ kingdoms  _ and  _ the hive crumble at my feet. Need I continue?” 

“Remind me how old you were when your mother entered the Dream?” 

“Old enough.” 

Purl glares. “You were  _ six. _ ” 

“If I was old enough to remember it, I was old enough to  _ do something about it _ ,” Hornet snaps, pressing further back into her hideaway. “I was old enough when the infection reached its peak. I am  _ certainly _ old enough to do something  _ now. _ ” 

Very slowly, Purl lifts their hand up and presses their thumb and forefinger to the center of their mask. Hornet recognizes the gesture near-instantly - it’s one their father would often make when he returned to find his pure vessel stained with whatever the Gendered Child has gotten her hands on. 

“What? Do you think me a  _ child _ ?”

Purl hesitates just a moment too long.

“I am  _ not! _ ” She spits. 

“You are not a child,” they agree, “but you’re young.”

“I am  _ nearly _ as old as you! I did not spend the infection sealed away!”

“You didn’t spend it  _ growing _ either.”

“What else could I  _ possibly _ have spent it doing?”

“Surviving. Bearing burdens you didn’t deserve.” 

“I took on  _ nothing  _ I was not born to bear!” Hornet throws her hands up into the air. “I was literally  _ brought into existence  _ to bear this!” 

Purl blinks. Blinks again. One more time for good measure. “Say that again, but slower.  _ Really  _ think about what you’re saying to  _ me  _ about being brought into existence to bear burdens. Go ahead.” 

“I didn’t- that’s  _ different. _ ” 

“Oh? It is? Do tell.” They rest their mask on their hand. 

“You were given something  _ unfair.  _ The vessel plan - it  _ never  _ would have worked. You would have been nothing but hurt by what  _ he  _ asked you to do. If I’d just- if I’d been  _ better _ , Deepnest wouldn’t have fallen and I’d have a prosperous kingdom. Instead, I  _ threw it all away. _ ” 

“Oh, no, the vessel plan  _ very well  _ could have worked.”

“ _ What. _ ” 

“Gods are quite powerful. It’s not quite the stretch some would imagine, to create a hollow being. There were times where I  _ was  _ hollow. It never worked in the way Father would have wanted - I simply didn’t have the Will for it - but if I had, if I were  _ better,  _ as one could put it, his plan could have worked. Do you still think I didn’t deserve what happened?” 

“ _ Purl _ \- of  _ course  _ you didn’t deserve it!  _ Any  _ of it!” 

“Then why did you?” 

“I-” 

“You  _ didn’t. _ ” 

“ _ Yes I did! _ ” 

“No. You.  _ Didn’t _ .” They punctuated each word by rapping the ground with their fist, leaning forward until the forehead of their mask is pressed to Hornet’s. “I can do this all day. You  _ didn’t.  _ My little baby sister did  _ not  _ deserve the weight of two kingdoms. My little baby sister did  _ not  _ deserve to go through the apocalypse alone. My little baby sister does  _ not  _ deserve to feel like she  _ owes  _ her  _ own family _ . My little baby sister needs to stop killing herself to make  _ dead people  _ happy.” 

“I am  _ not  _ killing myself to make dead people happy! I am  _ fixing  _ what I broke!” 

“ _ You  _ didn’t break anything! It was broken before you got here!” 

“I  _ let my mother die,  _ Purl!” Hornet  _ slaps  _ both hands to the floor of the den. “They were  _ hesitating!  _ I  _ told  _ Ghost to kill her and they were  _ hesitating _ ! And they never- they  _ never even needed to enter the temple!  _ I  _ told Ghost to kill her for  _ **_nothing_ ** !  _ NOTHING _ ! I BROKE my kingdom and STOOD BY AND ENCOURAGED THEM WHILE THEY KILLED MY MOTHER AND I WAS  _ WRONG _ THEY  _ DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO. _ ” 

“That  _ wasn’t your fault. _ ” 

“Oh? It wasn’t?  _ Do tell _ .” She spits, the acrid taste of venom filling her mouth.

“At that time, did you  _ know  _ there was another way? Did you  _ know  _ you were making things worse? Did you  _ know  _ this was unnecessary?” 

“I  _ should have _ .” 

“But  _ did you _ ?” 

“No. I did not. An inexcusable oversight-  _ ow!  _ What was  _ that  _ for?” Hornet rubs the side of her mask and bats Purl’s hand away. “Why did you  _ flick  _ me?” 

They draw back their hand to continue signing.“Because you’re  _ full of shit  _ and you  _ need to stop. _ ” 

“Stop  _ what _ ?” 

“Going in  _ circles. _ ” 

“I am  _ not. _ ” 

“You are.” Purl taps the side of their mask. “I’m  _ very  _ good at circles, and I promise, you  _ really are.  _ Stop it.” 

“I am not- ow! Stop that!” 

  
She gets the distinct impression of a  _ smirk  _ as they bring their hand back to their chest. “As I said: I can do this  _ all day. _ ” 

“Ghost is going to miss you.” 

“They’ll miss you more.” 

“Why?” It slips out, unbidden, and she regrets it immediately. 

“Because you’re their  _ sister _ .”

“A poor one,” she grumbles. 

“How so?”

“I do not play correctly. I do not soothe them properly after nightmares. I do not speak understandably. I  _ run away  _ when I upset them.” 

“You’re unpracticed. We all are. It’s  _ hard. _ ” 

“It  _ shouldn’t  _ be.” 

“Well, it is.” Purl reaches out to her. “And we’re not going to get anywhere by beating ourselves up for struggling. Will you come home now?” 

She pushes their hand away. “I don’t know if I should. I don’t think Ghost will want to see me.”

They snort. “They’re worried  _ sick  _ about you. C’mon, let’s go.” 

“Are you sure?”

Purl holds their hand out again. “I  _ promise. _ ”

“Okay.” Hornet takes their hand, and allows them to tug her out and scoop her up. Her needle rests on their back, and she does not reach for it. 

“What do we do now? How am I supposed to… apologize?”

“I don’t know when you got the impression that I know what to do,” Purl says, “but first I’d like to congratulate myself on the  _ incredible  _ acting skills I must have.” 

“ _ You _ !-“ her voice cracks. First she’s laughing, and then she’s crying. 

They pull her closer, let her bury her face in their shoulder, and stroke her back while she cries. 

“We’ll figure it out,” they sign to her. “We’ll make it work. I’ll help as long and as much as you’ll let me.” 

(As her oldest sibling holds her, for the first time since her mother died, Hornet truly doesn’t feel the need to retreat.)

*

When she returns home, she brings them something, as it is the only sort of apology she grew up with.

It’s a poor apology. Ghost accepts anyway. They’re forgiving like that. 

*

The angry sibling - _Lost_ , she learns once more, is _good_ , for a kid.

Especially a kid who was infected and is still recovering from the worst of it. 

(Maybe they’re just good in general.)

Still, it ends as every sparring match Hornet has had since the beginning of her time at the Hive ends - with her opponent on the ground and the tip of her needle resting on their chest. 

“Match?” 

They look away, clearly sulking as they raise their hand to sign their surrender. 

Hornet steps away, carefully inspecting her needle for nicks before sheathing it on her back. It’s only a few seconds before she glances back to see Lost still lying prone. “Hey.”

“What?” They snap from the ground. 

“Not bad,” she tells them, reaching her hand down. “Not bad.” 

Lost squints suspiciously at her, but grabs the offered hand and tugs themself to their feet. “...thanks? I  _ guess _ . You’re... not  _ terrible  _ either.” 

Hornet snorts. 

(She can see why Purl likes them.)

*

  
Ghost reaches out, pawing at their sister’s plate. When she lets out a warning hiss, they tilt their head and sign “ _ Pleaaaase? _ ” 

“Ghost…” Hornet catches their hand as they reach out again. “My sweetest, kindest little sibling, near and oh so dear to my heart… you can have my tiktik  _ over my thrice-dead body. _ ” 

“...ok.” Ghost turns around, sliding off their chair and heading towards their nail, which is hanging next to Hornet’s needle on their makeshift weapons rack.

Hornet lunges, catching the back of their cloak. “ _ No!  _ I was kidding! You’re not going to get it even if you kill me!”

They wiggle a little, but eventually, they slouch, allowing her to pull them back into their chair. 

“Now,” Hornet says, turning back to the table, “if you ask me nicely,  _ maybe  _ I’ll give you one -  _ Purl! I saw that! _ ”

“Saw what?” They ask innocently, the end of a strip of tiktik meat dangling from their mouth.

“That is  _ mine, _ ” Hornet scolds, reaching across the table and snatching it out of their mandibles. “I swear, I can’t even have  _ dinner  _ in peace!”

“You,” Purl lowers their head until they can rest the tip of their mask in between her horns, “swiped my crawlid yesterday.”

“Details,” Hornet snorts, gently awarding her older sibling. Without looking, she snatches her plate away from Ghost’s grabby hands. “And I haven’t forgotten about you either - Purl isn’t as good a distraction as they’d like to imagine!”

She knows she’s made a mistake as soon as Purl’s mask leaves hers. 

They  _ lean _ back, nearly toppling their chair over as they press their hand to their chest. “A  _ DISTRACTION?  _ ME!? I WOULD  _ NEVER _ !”

“Okay, Mx. Honey Treats Incident.” She swaps plate hands, and tries to catch the edge of Ghost’s cloak in her foot. 

The wounded look Purl gives Hornet is nearly enough to shatter her composure. As it is, she just barely manages to bite back her laughter.

(Things are good.)

*

“Hor _ neeeeeet _ ,” Ghost whines, flopping into her lap. “I’m so  _ bored. _ ” 

“You could go visit Mato,” Hornet says, not bothering to look up from the patch of cloak that she’s mending. “He’d like to see you, I’m sure.” 

Ghost goes quiet for a moment, spacing out in that special sort of way that Hornet’s come to associate with them speaking with their other sibling. 

“You’d better not- don’t you  _ dare  _ get Purl in here- dammit Ghost!” She pulls her claws out of her cloak and settles it back in its place with a roll of her shoulders. Lightly swatting at her younger sibling’s horn, Hornet turns her head to glare at Purl. “Don’t  _ you  _ start too.” 

“Hoooooorneeeeeet…” Purl joins them, pressing their face into her chest. “We’re  _ dying. _ Your poor poor siblings, their minds leaking out their eyes because you’ve left them with nothing to  _ do  _ all  _ day. _ ” 

Hornet rolls her eyes, and gently shoves them away. “Oh, shut  _ up,  _ I spent  _ all morning  _ playing with Ghost, and you fell asleep with me last night!” 

Purl whines, deep in their throat, and playfully paws at her shoulder. “ _ Sister…  _ we’re  _ dying _ …” 

There’s a tug on her cloak, and Hornet looks down, nearly clipping Ghost’s hands with her chin. “We  _ are, _ ” the little one signs earnestly. “We  _ are  _ dying, all alone without your love for us.” 

“You’re both _wrong_ , but…” She lets out a great, melancholy sigh. “But I _suppose,_ I can find it in me somewhere to do something else with the both of you today. What do you two want?”

“We don’t  _ know _ ,” Purl says. “That’s why we’re asking you.” 

“You don’t  _ know _ ?”

“We don’t know!” Ghost signs cheerfully. “But you know!”

  
  
“Oh,  _ I  _ know? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re the smartest and cutest and bestest little baby sister  _ everrrr _ !” Purl announces, throwing their arm up into the air. “You’re our little baby sister and we  _ loooove  _ you!” 

“I am  _ not  _ Ghost’s baby sister!  _ Ghost  _ is the baby!” 

“Baby sibling is a state of mind.” 

“It is! And  _ Ghost _ -” Hornet points at them “-is the baby!” 

“I am  _ noooot _ !” Ghost whines. 

“Yes you  _ areeeee! _ ” Hornet whines back.

“Hoooor _ neeeet _ ,” Purl wraps their arm around her, lifting her off the couch and tucking her against their chest, ignoring her indignant yelp. Tucking her into the crook of their elbow to free their hand, they continue: “You’re our little  _ babyyy sister. _ ”

“I am  _ not _ ! If anything-” Hornet jabs her finger accusingly at their mask “- _ you’re  _ the biggest baby of this whole family! You cried for an  _ hour  _ because you saw a mosscreep!” 

“It was so  _ tiny… _ ” Purl buries their head in her chest. “ _ Hornet…  _ it was so  _ little _ …”

“ _ Hornet… _ ” Ghost adds their signs to Purl’s. 

“Oh, both of you are  _ insufferable, _ ” Hornet scolds. 

The whining continues as Purl settles on the couch with Hornet in their lap. She hisses at them, gently batting at their mask. 

“That’s not even  _ really  _ my name, you know,” she says. It was meant to be an off-hand remark, something added to the banter, but somehow her voice catches. 

(She still struggles. Words and conversation are terribly difficult, and it seems they will be so forever. That’s alright - her siblings love her anyway, and don’t mind when she stumbles during their games.)

Purl snuggles her closer and tilts their head, a spark in their eyes. “Oh?”

Ghost patters their hands on the floor, ending their fluttering rhythm with a big, excited SLAP! starting intensely at their big sister the whole time. 

The hiss-click of her proper name slips from her fangs, almost before she is aware of what she’s doing. 

Ghost and Purl cock their heads. 

Purl is truly unable to speak - she has seen them try, now and then, and they are  _ certainly  _ able to make noise, but not a word has escaped them since their hatching. 

Ghost, on the other hand, has recently been able to approach a mangled, fascinatingly horrifying version of speech. They don’t seem to like communication with words much at all, though; even their signs are choppy, and they’ll often have Purl sign for them. 

Still, they try, for her. The click they produce is mangled,  _ horribly _ , but they manage a true spider hiss, and it is the first time Hornet has heard her name said in a manner approaching the way it was  _ meant _ to be said.

Ghost crosses their arms and scuffs at the ground with their foot, clearly unhappy with their imitation. 

Purl taps Ghost, and once they have their sibling’s attention, they click their claws together. The blunted tips make a noise that’s near-identical to the sound she’d just made.

Ghost motions for Hornet to repeat her name. She does, the sound rolling off her pedipalps with ease this time.

_ Hiss-click! _

Together, her siblings say her name aloud _.  _

*

(It will  _ never _ be enough. Irreplaceable things will always be broken. Her mother will not come back to life, nor will Deepnest ever again flourish with the forgotten songs of weaversilk.

But maybe here, maybe now, she can begin to build something of her own from the rubble.)

**Author's Note:**

> you know how i complained about the last one taking two months? I'm sorry. i'm so sorry please come back writing fics in two months what happened to writing fics in two months i miss you so much. pspspspspsps come back i'm willing to beg


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